James Potter and the Seer
by A Summers
Summary: Some say we create our own destinies through the choices we make, but the choice James Potter makes will influence the destiny of the wizarding world and beyond.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own any parts of the Harry Potter books or movies, nor the characters within; they are the sole property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bro., and I thank them both for a job well done.

**_Prologue_**

_October 20, 1979_

_It shouldn't happen this way._

_He appeared to be giving the consequences some thought, but lust smoldered in his eyes. _

"_You can do what all the others have done," he said. "For example, lift your bottom up and down, whisper my name in a seductive voice, and kiss me until I can't breathe."_

_Her eyes gave the impression of being unsure. "I'm not like all the others—I mean—this is more than sexual fulfillment," she said, and then immediately wished she hadn't._

_He whispered in her ear. "There's no sin in wanting me."_

_It would've taking nothing to kiss him, only a slight movement, and less than that to say his name—Sirius._

_He carefully swept her up into his arms, and carried what felt like the weight of a feather to his bed. "Lie still," he said, removing what little remained of her clothes. "I'll do all the work, _

_but I'll need you to kiss me."_

"_You are good at this," she whispered._

"_At what?"_

"_Seducing women." _


	2. Chapter one: Woe is me

CHAPTER ONE:

WOE IS ME

April 3, 1980

"Women are the spawns of gargoyles." Sirius said for the fifth time.

James crumpled a sheet of parchment and discarded it onto the floor. "You can't mean all of them," he said sarcastically, "but you do have more experience with women than I do. Now, can you, please, sing a different song, Padfoot?"

Sirius picked up a crumpled sheet and threw it James. "You disagree," he said. "My mistake, I forgot you married one. No disrespect, mate, but I can remember not that long ago, Lily didn't think very highly of you. She'd rather turn you into pumpkin seed and spit you out." James nodded his agreement. He could remember when Lily hated him, but the problem had not been with her; instead, it was him, and the lack of maturity exhausted to win her affection. He also knew the same problem existed within Sirius. His best friend had a fortune in gold, the striking good looks of the Black family, a razor-sharp mind, and an aristocratic charm; Sirius Black had never suffered a female's rejection.

First, he sighed, then fingers tapped out a tune on a bottle of firewhiskey, followed by another sigh, and then more tapping. James glanced up from his sheet of parchment, his round eyeglasses sitting on the edge on his nose, and watched as Sirius started the pattern again. All afternoon he had been trying to narrow down a list of baby names, had hoped Sirius would help, considering he was to be the child's godfather, but Sirius' mind seemed preoccupied with other matters. There was a wretched expression on Sirius' face, and dark circles were beginning to develop under his eyes; a depressed look James knew all too well.

After circling the names Humphrey, Henry, and Harry, James slid the parchment aside, pushed his eyeglasses in place, and waved the feathery tip of the quill under his chin. "Here's a thought, Padfoot," he said, trying to provide a different point of view. "You'll meet another girl, you haven't lost that skill, besides, we both know muggle girls have bizarre ideas and strange moods."

"Not just muggle girls!" shouted Sirius. "That's bollocks, witches are ten-times worse. . .insanity oozing from every pore!"

James scratched his head and pushed-up his eyeglasses again. He knew immediately, from the look Sirius was giving him, that once again he would prove himself ignorant of the opposite sex; however, his friend was going through girlfriends like toilet paper, which in a sense meant neither he, nor Sirius, thoroughly understood females.

"Name one witch who was unfaithful to you?" said James as a challenge, then grabbed the bottle of firewhiskey next to Sirius, and took a large gulp. "What was her name?" said James, snapping his fingers to remember. "The witch you dumped because her teeth were too yellow, when the truth was you had already started dating her squib cousin. And, let's not forget that pretty witch you dated until it became necessary to have-off with a muggle girl from Little Norton. Who, by the way, after you placed a spell on her, now thinks you're someone named Stubby Boardman. A memory curse, I'm willing to beg." James pointed the quill at Sirius, and pretended to write across his face. "And, since we're on the subject, were you, or were you not, dating three girls at once when Cassandra dumped you? It's no wonder, Padfoot, you bring about these aches and pains on yourself. You're like a dog in heat."

A half smile curled at Sirius' lips as magnificent memories of past triumphs took shape. "My brain is too whiskey-soaked to compare notes and confirm any wrong-doing on my part," he admitted wryly, "but that's exactly my point, witches are insane."

"You're insane," said James, turning up the bottle of firewhiskey once more. "Witches love you, they practically throw themselves at your feet."

"Not possible, on both accounts, and if that's love they have a barmy way of showing it," said Sirius, tilting his chair back on two legs. "I can name a muggle girl, or three, I'd fancy making my wife."

James exploded into laughter. "That'll be the day, Sirius Black married," he said almost choking. "How many wives do you think you can have? Last time I checked, the Ministry of Magic allowed a wizard only one wife."

"Shame on them," responded Sirius half annoyed at James' cheekiness. "This is pointless, I should leave. I'm sure you want to get back to finding an acceptable name for your son or daughter. . .I told you Elvendor is a great name, it works for a boy or a girl. Never mind if Lily doesn't fancy the name. I think it's brilliant."

James wiped the tears of laughter from his cheeks, flicked of his wrist, and a book soared down from a shelf and hit Sirius on top of the head.

"Hey!" yelled Sirius. "What's that for?"

"You don't get it," said James angrily. "It's not all about you, Padfoot. A relationship between a man and a woman is not one person constantly giving and the other selfishly taking. When you love someone, what they think and how they feel is shared. I love my wife, and her feelings are important to me." James took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. "When are you going to grow-up, mate?" Sirius stared off at a picture of James and Lily; the picture showed the couple spinning happily in a waltz, stopping only to kiss before dancing out of sight.

James did not expect an answer, Sirius never did when his maturity was in question, and it must hurt a little to think James thought his friend not fully grown—emotionally damage—broken as it seemed. Yet, for as much as James found it necessary to hurt Sirius' feelings, he also found it essential to love him like a brother—if not more. From the day they met aboard the Hogwarts Express, at age eleven, they had been inseparable. And when Sirius was sixteen, one year shy of legal age, he ran-away from all the prejudices his parents tried to instill. But, it was James' parents who took him in with open arms, showered him with love, and proclaimed him their son; nevertheless, no one understood, Sirius Black better than James Potter.

James held the bottle of whiskey up, finding it empty he stood up from the table, he ran his fingers through his messy black hair. "Fancy a visit to the Leaky Cauldron?" he asked. "There's no more firewhiskey, mate, and if we're going to drown your sorrows right proper, we need the means to do so. How about it?"

There was still no response that was comprehensible from Sirius; the man was lost in self-pity. James pulled Sirius up from the chair, adjusted his friend's robe, and lead him out the front door. When they reached Sirius' motorcycle, there was a slight pause. James had driven the bike once, and that was a disaster; he was thrown backwards from the temperamental machine.

"Straighten-up, Padfoot," he said, shoving Sirius toward the bike, then quickly thought up a scheme to perk him up. "You might want tidy up. I heard Tom hired a new barmaid."

"Oh yeah!" Sirius piped up, grooming himself in one of the mirrors, and deviously grinned. "Wormtail mentioned her, and a scandalous low-cut magenta robe that I must see for myself."

Sirius tapped the bike's ignition with his wand, and it roared to life. "Her name's Kendall Westbrook," he added. "Medium height and build, curly brown hair, 36c chest, and half blood. I think her mum's a muggle, right?"

James shrugged. "No idea, mate," he said, chuckling. "I'm a married man, remember?"

Sirius balked out a laugh, reared the motorcycle on its rear wheel, and speed-off down the narrow street. "Hold on tight!" he shouted, launching upward into the sky.

The weather was favorable for an April evening. The crispness of the air dulled the whiskey's influence, and the two young wizards trailed a purplish tinted sky bound for London. James kept his eyes on the course Sirius flew; he did not want to travel in the opposite direction, or drawing attention from people below. When they arrived at the Leaky Cauldron's entrance, it was discernible the pub was not operating in its full capacity for a Saturday night. Much of the lanterns that flowed above rickety, old, tables were extinguished. The atmosphere felt ominously quiet as if awaiting something unpleasant. James and Sirius simultaneously touched the upper, inside, pocket of their robes, making sure a wand could be easily accessible. It was Sirius who spoke first.

"Perhaps we should go to the Three Broom Sticks," he said, then cut a glance in the direction of a portly wizard sitting in the center of the pub.

"Why?" James asked; his eyes scanning all the unoccupied tables, and the bar counter before resting them on the portly wizard dressed in a two-piece suit that was two sizes too small. He slightly nudged Sirius. "Are you two on bad terms, also?"

Sirius shook his head no, but there was an unconvincing, non-reassuring feel in that—no.

"Potter. . .Black," said the portly wizard, waving them over to where he sat, "come join me, if you please."

The two walked to the center of the room, nodding their greeting to those who looked as they passed-by. "Evening Mr. Bones," said James, pulling up a chair, "having a good one, I hope."

Edgar Bones' eyes were fixed on Sirius, but he answered in a stern voice. "Not as good as I'd like."

"Well, let's hope that changes soon" said James, sitting down across from the man.

James studied the wizard for moment, noticing the buttons on his jacket was stretched to their absolute limit, and smiled broadly because too often Edgar Bones' demeanor could be best described as petulance but his manner of dress made up for this shortcoming.

"Don't just stand there, Black," said Edgar, pulling up a chair that was closest to him. "Have a seat, you won't find any Death Eaters here tonight."

Sirius' delay in taking the seat was reminiscent of an animal uncomfortable with its surroundings; his acute instincts, unable to drop their guard, probed the intent behind Edgar's offer. Few people knew his animagus form, and Edgar Bones was not one of them, but James could see by the flaring of Sirius's nostrils that he was uneasy.

"You boys didn't happen to run into anymore muggle law-enforcers again, did you?"

Sirius sat down next to Edgar. "No, the streets are as dead as this pub," he said grimly.

"Still, you have to admit it's a great night for flying," said James. "Are you here alone, Mr. Bones?"

"Yes, I needed a moment to myself," said Edgar, bearishly slumped over his mug of mead. "Last week, four Death Eaters approached me, recruiting, no doubt. They're quite relentless in their pursuit of pure-bloods. . .big laugh on them, I'm muggle-born." He then slammed his large fist onto the table. "The bloody lunatic, calling himself Lord now. I'll join his ranks when we're all dead and dancing in Hell. He and his followers have some colossal balls, if you ask me, and I told him so to his face."

James cleared his throat, pushed his glasses back up, and tried to suppress laughing out loud. "I'm sorry to hear you're being troubled by Death Eaters," he said.

Edgar twisted his face into an ugly frown. "They can try to trouble me," he said, revealing a missing front tooth. "The whole lot can kiss my backside where I wipe. It's fortunate my wife is visiting relatives in Hartford, the tension at home was growing unbearable for her, but my Cassie didn't go with her mother, she stayed home, and she's the main source of my angst these days. Merlin should pity the man who raises a daughter."

The pub fell silent once more. James shifted his gaze from Edgar to Sirius back to Edgar then Sirius again as the awkwardness filled the room. _Don't ask_, James told himself. _Sirius should be the one to make _inquiries—_it should be him, not me—Padfoot, ask what's wrong! _

Sirius was unwilling to meet James' eyes; more willing to let the conversation dangling in limbo. Perhaps he was truly saddened by Cassandra's sudden lost of interest in him to offer up any concern into her well-being, or that of her family's safety. Had this not been just a game? Wasn't this the so very typical way of Sirius to fabricate love until someone new came along.

Cassandra Bones was one of many girls Sirius faked deep emotion for—or so, James thought.

"Sorry lads, don't mean to sour-up your fun," said Edgar, adding a more cheerful tone. "Barmaid, I think these young wizards came to drink, and no questions about it." Edgar said, then winked at James. "How about some aged Scottish brew, my treat," he added. "That'll get the night off to a good start."

James smiled his agreement and turned his attention to the two behind the bar; Tom and his new barmaid seem to be whispering amongst themselves, and James assumed the discussion was about the lack of customers. Shorty thereafter, Kendall Westbrook was walking toward them balancing a tray in midair; her bright pink robe swung side to side as she walked. "May I get you anything else, Mr. Bones?" she asked, placing three glasses and, a dusky, corked bottle on the table.

"No, thank you, my dear," replied Edgar.

She curtsied, James though the curtsey a little over the top, but what was more fascinating was that Sirius did not glance up at her. She was dressed somewhat revealing, yet she could have been stark nude, and no one would notice or care.

"Nice girl," announced Edgar when Kendall was far enough away. "She should take care not to lure a degenerate to her door. Isn't that right, Black?"

Sirius' face turned hard as stone, and he threw Edgar a filthy look before answering. "That depends on your definition of a degenerate," he said coldly.

"My definition is a man with no morals and no self-control," said Edgar. "She might find herself like my daughter, expecting a baby with no husband to claim responsibility for the predicament."

James felt his heart skip a beat, heard himself gasp, but did not dare himself to look at Sirius.

"Sounds like a waste of energy," said Sirius unsympathetic, "worrying over what some another man's daughter might attract, and it sounds to me like your daughter's doesn't want a husband, so let the responsibility fall where it can."

Edgar's face turned bright red. "You ill-bred son-of-a-bitch!" he shouted. Within a span of a second, before everyone could blink, Edgar seized Sirius by neck. James lugged across the table, knocking over a full glass, and pulled at Edgar's clasp on Sirius. The table fell over sideways, from James' weight, knocking Edgar and Sirius onto the floor. Edgar landed on top, his hands still firmly in place, and he slammed Sirius' head several times into the wooden surface.

James' eyeglasses hit the floor before he did, and were being shuffled between legs and arms. "WHAT BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING!" he yelled, able to see clearly, and was struck in the under the chin when he tried to pick-up his glasses. "LET HIM GO! WHAT HAS HE DONE?"

All eyes and ears were on the three men—a few witches and wizards had produced wands, bowled over by the sudden uproar. Some of the portraits on the wall looked on horrified while others screamed, "DO NOT PATRONIZE RIFFRAFF, TOM. PUT THOSE BRAWLERS OUT ON THE STREETS WHERE THEY BELONG!"

Edgar released Sirius before he him lost consciousness, and stumble to his feet. "Ask him," he said, and kicked Sirius in the left side. "Go on, ask the son-of-bitch, let see if he'll tell you."

James shook his head, his eyeglasses askew and bent, and pointed his wand directly at Edgar's heart. "Keep your hands and your feet off of him," he said nervously. "Don't make me hurt you."

"Hurt me! I'd like to see you try, you little piece shit!"

James prepared himself to duel; Edgar was four-times his size and taller, but the size of a wizard never foretold the outcome of a duel—speed and skillful aim did. "What has Sirius done to make you want to kill him?"

Edgar, overexerted, overweight, and out of breath, took his time answering. His comb-over had fallen to one side of his head, revealing a large, round, bald spot. "That's right, take your friend's side," he snapped, breathing heavily, then repositioned hair back over the bald spot.

"We're like brothers," said James proudly, and owlishly stared at Edgar. "So yes, I'll take his side, and not standstill while someone tries to strangle him to dead."

"I just wanted to congratulate the son-of-a-bitch!" shouted Edgar.

James pointed his wand at Edgar's face. "He can't help who his mother is," he said coolly, "and being the son of Walburga Black doesn't give you any rights." James glanced down at Sirius. "No offense, mate."

Edgar snorted. "Impregnating my daughter with his bastard gives me the right to cut his head off," he said grimly. "I'll murder any man who sets his needs above the reputation of my daughters, and gladly go to Azkaban for the pleasure of ridding the world of his kind."

James felt his stomach tie in knots, but he stood firm, wand extended, and his facial expression unchanged by the shocking information: His brain slowly began to process what his ears had heard—_Impregnating. . . ._

James looked down at Sirius, outstretched, on the floor; he had not moved one inch. Even as Edgar torn at his throat, he made no effort to fight back. "I—I didn't—didn't quite," stammered James, "I don't think I heard you right—did you say—"

"You heard me!" shouted Edgar. "And I'll thank you to lower your wand before I make you eat it!"

Voices seemed to jabber from everywhere. Sirius stood up, reached inside his robe, and produced ten gold Galleons which he threw at Edgar's feet.

"The drinks are on me," he said hoarsely, then lifted his chair back into its rightful place. "No harm done, let's go," he added, and clapped James on the back, and with his head held high walked to the exit that led out into Diagon Alley; James stared behind him in total disbelief.


	3. Chapter two: Boney Bones

Chapter two

Boney Bones

It felt later than it actually was; they had been in the pub no more than thirty minutes, at the most, yet it felt as if hours had past. Sirius had parked the motorcycle in the back alley of the pub—good idea—because no one could see them there, but they did hear Edgar Bones inside, loudly swearing while Tom, the barkeeper, explained why he was no longer welcomed there. James stood next to the motorcycle waiting for Sirius to collect his thoughts and express, in no uncertain terms, none of it was true. He had expected Sirius would turn around before leaving through the backdoor and scream with laughter, _"Edgar and I pulled a good one on you, mate."_ That did not happen and no one was laughing.

James felt strangely scared; a deep shakiness in his knees that he could not stop, nor liked. He had felt this way once before on the night his mother passed-away, and he loathed feeling fearful. "Padfoot," he began in a low voice, carefully choosing what he would say next, "is it true?"

It was difficult to see in the dark alley, but Sirius had tears in his eyes, and yet he hid them from James' view. "She told me I wasn't the father," said Sirius somberly. "I suppose Edgar was told something to the contrary."

"Why didn't you speak up?" James demanded, his voice growing in volume. "At the very least, why didn't you fill-in all the blanks for the man. I asked—I distinctly remember asking you at the front door, were you two on bad terms? I felt you wasn't being honest. Edgar wants to kill you . . . and forget using a wand . . . he wants to kill you with HIS BARE HANDS!"

Sirius sat down on a stack of dirty crate several feet away the motorcycle and stared down at the alleyway's broken, chipped-away, bricks; his face drained of blood and hands shaking. He did not answer at once, but ignored James' anger. "He did give it a good go," he said, rubbing his neck, now visually bruised. "Anyone can see the man has big hands, but you never really know how big until they're wrapped around your neck." Sirius glanced over at the motorcycle; it, too, seemed to be staring at him awaiting an explanation. "I knew Edgar wouldn't take the news well," he said, still looking at the motorcycle as though the conversation was between him and it. "I'm actually surprise it took this long."

When his gaze finally turned to James' face, he found it etched with disappointment. James felt sick from the fear lingering inside his body; he had not eaten dinner yet, and with each passing minute believed he would soon vomit. Never had he been so quick to duel a wizard in the defense of someone who might not deserve protection.

"So, you're saying, you knew . . . you knew!" yelled James.

Sirius groaned; the sound a whimpering pup makes. "I've gone over every single detail," he said. "Counted all the times Cassandra and I were together, checked them against a calendar, questioned all the reasons she would lie."

"Who's the liar . . . you or her?"

"I haven't lied."

"Hang on . . . she broke it off with you months ago . . . how far along is she?"

"Not sure," said Sirius flatly. "I noticed the weight gain before the break-up, but when I confronted her with my suspicions that's when she said it's was over between us. If I had to guess, five, maybe six months into her pregnancy . . . she and Lily should deliver near the same time."

"FOR THE LOVE OF MERLIN," shouted James, "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? IS THIS TRULY THE TYPE OF MAN YOU ARE?"

Sirius shook his head, and then covered his face with his hands. "You aren't listening to me."

"I'm listening!" yelled James, pacing up and down the alleyway. "I can't believe you would . . . that you would. . . ."

"Take Boney Bones into my bed." Sirius supplied dully. "Yeah, a few times, and don't look at me like that, James. I know what you're thinking, and yeah, there's a strong possibility—an overwhelming one—she's carrying my child. . . I admit it, but what was I suppose to do at the time—twist her arm? Make her tell me the truth then force her to marry me? Everyone is so quick to blame the guy. No one cares to hear what he has to say, or his take on what happened. It's his entire fault, he took advantage, and men such as Black require only one thing from women."

James was stunned. He could not recall Sirius ever admitting to any transgressions. Even the one incident which almost caused the dead of another classmate was all fun and games in Sirius' eyes, and when it was discovered he had purposely led Severus Snape to where Remus Lupin lay in his werewolf state, the fault rested solely on Snape for sticking his abnormally large nose where it did not belong.

"That's not what I was thinking," James lied, "not exactly, I stopped referring to Cassandra as Boney Bones when you started dating her—and obviously doing more than just dating.

Sirius smirked appreciatively. "You didn't make-love to Lily before the two of you were married?"

James felt himself go red, and slowly shook his head—no. "The thought did cross our minds, but it seemed more important that we wait."

Sirius nodded, and then looked up at the night sky; stars were now becoming more apparent.

"Do you think you were under the spell of a love potion?" asked James. "No offense, mate, but your sudden interest in her did look weird, and I'm not the only one who thought so, even Moony remarked . . . _'there goes a pair as opposite as dragons and owls'_."

"It's true, we didn't have much in common, however it started, I was fully aware of my attraction to her years before we left Hogwarts . . . Perhaps, deep down, I was embarrassed, but I've never been with any woman with such determination," he said sadly. "I can't explain why she persuaded me, or why I agreed. She felt it was imperative that we . . . you know . . . make-love, if it can be referred to as love, because she didn't love me, nor I her . . . But now, I hate her for what she's done, and I hate myself."

James sat next to Sirius on the wooden crates and placed one arm around the man's shoulders; Sirius had begun crying halfway through his closing argument, and here was another first—Sirius Black crying. "I won't deny my child if he or she should one day come looking for me," he whimpered. "I don't know any quick fixes or easy answers."

The Knight Bus deposited a drunken Edgar Bones on the corner of Oakley Avenue and March Square, two blocks from his home. He staggered and stumbled his way along, bumping into a tree here and there which he tipped his hat and begged forgiveness. He accidently stumbled over a waist-high, picket, fence that alarmed a dog. He lifted his wand to the dog but the animal merely stared at him somewhat amused. "Sorry mate," he said to the dog, reaching for his hat that tumbled to the lawn when he fell. "May I trouble you for directions . . . it looks as though I've wandered too far?" The dog moved closer and sniffed the man's shoes. Edgar stumbled backwards two steps. "Don't mind those," he said, gaining his balance. "I experienced nausea on the ride home . . . a wee-bit landed on my shoe . . . that's the reason why the driver put me out here in the middle of nowhere . . . angry over the sick, I reckon."

Of course, there was no reply from the dog; only the sounds of traffic from a neighboring street. "Well, I'll just be on my way now, sorry to have bothered you," said Edgar, throwing a leg over the fence, and then turned in the same direction from which he had just traveled, waving goodnight to the dog.

A pale yellowish light shun through a window of the Bones' modest little house; from the outside it looked no more than a shack, but inside was a spacious five bedroom house complete with 3 bathrooms. Cassandra Bones, the eldest of three children, curled up on the sofa with what she proclaimed an excellent book. She was not the type to purchase, or read, what Flourish and Blotts recommended on their best sellers list; her desire centered on the macabre. This was not unusual, by any stretch of the imagination, the shelves of Flourish and Blotts were spilling over with bloodcurdling tales, hair-rising chronicles, and horrifying adventures; however, the average young witch don't purchase these gory books, and this, among various other things, made Cassandra Bones highly unusual.

"Accio." Two cushions floated steadily to Cassandra and hovered before dropping in her lap. She positioned one cushion at the small of her back and the other behind her head, and began skimming over the thirteen chapters of _Death Omens—When You Know the Worse Is Coming_; stopping on page 97 subtitled, _The stars are aligned_. She gathered up her thick blonde hair which obstructed her view, then paused to read: '. . . r_eframe from conceiving a child whom birth might approach the sixth day of the sixth month_.' She then tied a large knot, and tucked stray strands of hair inside a floppy bun along with her wand. Cassandra had the appearance of someone mysteriously ill, but somehow refused to submit to death; doleful, blue, eyes, pallid complexion, and a thinness that earned her the nickname Boney Bones at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but despite her unhealthy look, she was bewitchingly beautiful. She propped head with the cushion and sank into a relaxed position; her comfort was short lived.

_THUMP_! The front door flew open and her father fell in face first.

"Vanora!" bellowed Edgar for wife, "I'm home, love!"

"Mum's not here," said Cassandra, laying the book aside.

"Elspeth," he called for his second eldest daughter, "come help your old dad."

Cassandra stood, one hand held the weight of the heavy tangle of hair and the other her protruding belly, and wobbled to where her father lay pretending to be helpless. "Elspeth with mum in Hartford," she said in a scornful tone, "all you have is me."

"Alright, sweetheart, I'll wait here for you."

Edgar heaved a heavy sigh of appreciation for the kind hands that aided him, not realizing until standing upright whose hands they were. "Winifred," he said, smiling at his daughter who was bracing herself for the addition weight. "Winnie, you're such angel."

"It's me, Cassie, Dad."

He slanted his eyes to slits, and then his smile altered. "So, it is," he said, disappointed she was not his youngest and favorite. "I had myself a few drinks tonight."

"Tell me something I don't know," she said, "and, Dad, please try to stand on your own. I can't carry you."

As usual Edgar got to the point at once. "No one asked you to carry me," he said, spraying her with the odor of alcohol, and tightly gripped her arm. "I'll tell you something you don't know, Miss. Doom and Gloom. I ran into Sirius Black this evening, lo-and-behold, he didn't even mention your name . . . is that gloomy enough for you? I was glad to see him. Glad to see him out with friends, enjoying life, and not giving a damn about you."

"I'm glad for him, also," she said, removing his grip on her.

"That's—right," he hiccupped, "didn't—mention you—at all."

Cassandra wobbled back to the sofa, and resumed reading. There was no point in her father saying anything about Sirius; she knew it was just a matter of time before a full-blown altercation would erupt, and she sought to avoid it all cost. Her parents weren't pleased with the pending birth of their first grandchild. Perhaps if she had married first some happiness would be present, but she doubted a child would suddenly change their opinion of her. "I'm off to bed," Edgar announced, but instead flopped down in an armchair where two kittens scurried off into hiding from fear of being crushed. "I'm meeting with Barty Crouch in the morning, and I need to be in tip- top form."

Cassandra didn't look up from her book and, intent on ignoring her father, placed the book atop of her belly, turning a page every few seconds. "Dark omens can be found in the most obvious of places to the trained eye," she read aloud.

"What the bloody hell are you reading?" asked Edgar, suddenly startled, and strained his eyes to see the title of the book clearly which, also, brought in essence the condition of the room. The sitting room was littered with books, dishes with dried food were stacked a feet high on a table in front of the sofa, and two large astronomy charts were pinned to the wall. "You been sitting on your bum all day!" he yelled. "Doing nothing but reading that rubbish!" He got to his feet and inspected the state of his home.

"It's not rubbish," she said.

"IT'S RUBBISH!" he shouted. "AND DON'T YOU TALK BACK TO ME, GIRL . . . NOT AS LONG AS YOU'RE LIVING UNDER MY ROOF!"

"Sorry, I wasn't being disrespectful."

"When your mother sees this mess, you best believe, she'll . . ." He paused, allowing himself to breathe, or he suddenly remembered his wife would not be home for some weeks, perhaps months. "Wasting your time looking for premonitions," he continued on with a different irksome subject, examining a copy of _The Constellations for Future Predictions,_ and tossed the book back in its pile. "Here's a premonition you won't find in any book. . . Sirius Black will never be a husband to you, or a father to that baby, unless you have a word with the Ministry of Magic."

Edgar's big foot accidently kicked a leg on the table and dishes hurtle in the air—"Scourgify,"—but they landed neatly stacked and clean. "Please, don't advise me to go running to the Ministry," said Cassandra, tucking her wand back in her hair. "I don't want to marry anyone, nor do I need the Ministry to assist on my behalf."

Edgar stood stubbornly staring at her. "You'll regret your decision one day," he said coldly. "Sirius Black belongs to most prosperous family in the wizarding world, and I'll wager you a thousand Galleons he marries someone just as wealthy as they are."

Cassandra placed the book over her belly. "Really, a thousand Galleons," she said suspiciously. "Your gold could serve a better purpose."

Edgar chuckled. "If you think me and mother will finance your stupidity, think again."

She shrugged. "No, I never considered you or mum would. Don't worry, though, this baby will have everything it needs, including two parents. It just occurred to me your well-earned gold could ensure your final affairs are in order. And, as far as Sirius goes, I can definitely say, he'll never marry, nor will he ever conceive another child, and neither you, nor I, will be alive to see his grief-stricken life unfold."

With that said, she pick-up her book and turned another page. Edgar had turned purple in the face; his lips trembled, but he pretended not to be alarmed. "You don't scare me as you scare your mother and sisters, girl," he bellowed. "These so-called visions of yours' are signs alright—a sign that you're positively mad."

"Of course, if you say so," she said indifferently, "leave poor Aunt Amelia to sort it all out . . . won't matter. . . I'm in the process of making my final arrangements."

"Try arranging the rest of this mess," he furiously snapped. "You can perform a cleaning charm well enough. I suggest you get it done before I wake in the morning."

Edgar stormed from the room and up the stairs, slamming his bedroom door—Cassandra simply sniggered and turned another page.

**A/N:**

J.K. Rowling introduced us to the Boneses through Amelia Susan Bones (Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement) and her niece, Susan Bones (A Hogwarts student, sorted into

Hufflepuff, and a friend to Harry Potter). It's canon that Edgar Bones is killed, with his wife and children, by a Death Eater when Voldmort first rose to power. Alastor Moody (Mad-Eye) tells

Harry that Edgar Bones was a great wizard. (OotO ch.9) I like to invision him more as a wizard form of Vernon Dursley; a big, beefy man with a short temper. We're not told his wife's name,

or the names of his children, but I found it interesting to learn Edgar Bones is either Susan Bones' grandfather or uncle. So, how is any of this possible, if all his children are killed with him

and Amelia Bones is childless? Nevertheless, when Rowling is asked in a 2000 interview were the Boneses who are killed by a Death Eater related to Susan Bones, she said, "They were her

grandparents." But, Rowling may have mistakenly changed the relationship when she wrote book five. Please, feel free to review and offer any suggestions; I'm trying to explore all the

possibilities. Thank you in advance. Chapter three is coming soon, I titled it_ The Meeting of Like Minds, where Cassandra Bones meets Sibyll Trelawney for the first time. _


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